The worst part of growing up is losing your imagination. Losing your only escape out of reality. Subjecting yourself to actuality where commotion and disorder drown out what’s really important. I was happy when I disappeared to another place with endless possibilities. I felt invincible in that state, and it was easy to translate into real life situations too. But things changed, and I hate to say that I left that place behind.
It’s all a part of life. We catch up with society and face its harshness. I miss the smell of falling leaves and watching them spill from the treetops, slowly drifting down to where I lay. That’s where I’ll always want to stay, and never leave, but I’m already gone and off in the world.
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